The runaway of fate
by pesteczka-9
Summary: The Death is inevitable, or isn't it?
**Hello, a quick idea, something in exchange of "Is is a real betryal" because the story is currently on a hiatus because I lost all of my files and I must rewrite the chapters again :( So I'm adding something short for fun :) I hope you'll like it**

 **OOO**

He knew her since the day she was born. She didn't realize that but he was like her shadow, following her everywhere. It was his job, collecting lives. He was her comrade during her parents funeral, uncle funeral and couple of her friends. He was the one who killed them after all. A car accident, a heart attack, a rift, drugs. He took everything away from her and left nothing in exchange. He just watched. And she was next on his list.

The weirdest thing was that her name, day after day, was written on the other, next page of his list. And another, and the other. Her soul slipped through his bony fingers. He observed her for years. She stayed with her cousin who ran a small bar in the criminal district, very close to the underworld of the Grand District of the city. He watch as she grew up, got into wrong society, full of drugs, slavery and murder. He watched her killing and being nearly killed. Nearly, she still slipped through his fingers.

She almost didn't smile, he saw only that wicked one but rarely. She wanted destroy everything, where she went wrecking chaos, he followed. She always caused him a lot of work. Not that he didn't know that in advance, his list said everything. Her hollow eyes captured his interest. That and the other ability. The ability of avoiding the Death.

Once she got to reformatory. She was a very hard nut to crack. Taunting and mocking insolently her keepers was her favorite way of spending time imprisoned. Then they claimed that she had a split personality but they didn't know, he knew, she was just highly unstable and all alone. Forlorn girl who cried every night dreaming her own nightmares. Despite her young age she was known as a Nightmare in the underworld of the Grand District. A bounty hunter and a mercenary. At the age of 6 she was already an orphan and under her uncle's care. He mistreated her, offended and hit. When drunk he did worse but after her 8th birthday he had a heart attack and died on her hands. And he was there.

But in the reformatory she met someone. She met other people like her. Not only criminals, it wasn't the case. She met other lost people, lost like her. They were a bigger group, of 8 or 9, they called themselves a "CREW" or "NAKAMA"- words meaningless to her. They were much longer there, fully recovered from the evil staining their hearts but still remaining rowdy and loud themselves. She was cold and unreconstructed, they said. Everyone gave up on her, except them. They were patient and stubborn, the bunch of youngsters who she eventually joined. It changed her, showing new horizons. He needed admit that the sight made him think. Think about himself. Normally he watched her life without any emotion, just like plain movie, but then he felt something that petrified him. The contentment. He was glad that she was happy, and it horrified him.

But no matter how much you change your life sometimes you just cannot escape the past. So did she.

She ran through the alleys. Bruised and beaten. Limping she hid in the maze of buildings of the underworld. She was chased. Blinded by the darkness of the night she noticed him, the tall man in long, dark cloak. His hair black and messy, his tan complexion and the clothing made him nearly unnoticeable in the shadows. She stared at him for a second, fear and pain painted on her face. She froze, gazing into his silver, shining in the darkness eyes.

She could see him, how- he couldn't understand. She wasn't the first on his list, she shouldn't be able to see the Death. He reached for her. She stood her ground watching his approximating hand, with a "DEATH" tattoo decorating it.

She felt at ease, like in deep hypnosis. She felt safe.

It was the first time when he could get so close to her. He could almost feel the touch of her skin, the warmth of her body. He could finally snatch her soul out. They heard the shots in the distance and a few bullets reached the brick wall behind their backs. She flinched and came back to the reality. He retrieve his hand. Before he could do anything more she whispered hurriedly one word which stole his heart completely. This one word showed her own heart she hid deep inside her chest for years. Then the blood was splattered around. Everything happened fast, even for him. The bunch of men shot her repeatedly, even when her body was already laying helplessly on the ground. They screamed vituperation at her, kicked her in the ribs and spit on her face. Thankfully she was unconscious. He knew those men. They were the ones who help her to fall so lowly. Because of them she killed. They were simple drug dealers, bullies and thieves who picked on weaker. But she wasn't weaker, she was outnumbered and wounded. Moreover they knew her weakness, she was a part of their group once.

 **OOO**

Later she lied motionlessly on the hospital bed. An anonymous witness called the cops and ambulance. A surgery was needed, only that could save her, or couldn't it? Her bed was surrounded with a few people, her friends. The atmosphere was gloom and quiet, apart from beeping machinery keeping her alive. No one said anything they just sat there staring in different directions, none of them able to look at her bruised face. It was peaceful and calm, like a mask hiding everything what she faced in her short life. Then the doctor came and said that they had better go, she required a solid rest. If only he knew that it would change nothing. But being a doctor, more likely, gave him the privilege of excepting what would happen soon. He excepted her death.

The day had come. Her name was first on his list. He approached the machinery touching lightly her cold hand. He looked at her screen blankly. The left hand lifted in the midair was about to disconnect the wires but it faltered. There must have been passed centuries if not the whole infinity since the last time he hesitated doing his job. His right hand placed a feather-like touches one her forearm and stopped on her hand. That one word she said to him in the dark alley before they got her, shot like an animal.

 ** _'_** ** _RUN'_**

He knew her but she didn't know him. For her he was a stranger who she saw the first time in her life and still she troubled herself and sacrificed her life to warn him. She didn't have to stopped, didn't need to buy him time, they couldn't see him either way. Not yet anyway. But she didn't knew that, she couldn't know. His fingers wrapped around the wire. One move and he would be done, finally after those two decades he followed her like a guardian, a bane which caused a misfortune and death around her leaving her untouched. But the time came.

Suddenly her hand twitched making him look at her. She was still like a stone but her face wasn't as stoic as before. Her brows were slightly furrowed, breath became ragged and a single beads of sweat went down her forehead. The machine started to beep uneven and not knowing when his hand left the wire and touched her cheek. Firstly shyly, everything which was touched by Death dies immediately, but he knew she wouldn't die so simply, she never did. Then he left the machine completely and cupped her rosy cheek while his other hand's entwined with hers still lying on the mattress. Her facial features strengthens neutrally again, his cold skin absorbing the whole pain of her. The touch, the feeling he didn't feel centuries, she was so warm, her skin so soft. Her breathing levelled out again.

Her final breath.

But **he** liked her. Maybe one more day he would spare her…

 **OOO**


End file.
